Envious- Johnlocked
by Little Doctor
Summary: A series of Johnlock oneshots by my friend Reaper. 2nd chapter: Sherlock has a brush with death that leaves him in the hospital. John is devastated by his partners condition but Sherlock doesn't seem to recognize the severity. John can't take how little Sherlock cares about himself.
1. Envious

**A/N: This is not my work, I'm posting this for my friend, Reaper, who doesn't have a account yet; we share a tumblr actually.**

Summary: Sherlock and John work a new case together only to find a young detective has taken a liking to John.

 **Johnlock Envious**

It was another glum morning, the cases had slowed to a sluggish halt leaving Sherlock extra irritable. Even his precious violin couldn't calm him that day. All of that stopped when Lestrade walked into the flat.

Shooting up from his place in the armchair Sherlock marched to the door and stopped far too close to the detective.

"Jesus Sherlock," Lestrade cursed stepping back "Look we need your help with a case in the suburbs, it's an odd one."

It was as if someone had lit a fire beneath the man as he shot up and ran into the center of the room to grab his things.

"Brief me on the way there," he muttered, sorting through a particularly large pile of junk, before pulling out his phone.

"So, you'll take it?" the gray haired man tilted his head curiously to the side at the sheer excitement Sherlock was presenting.

"Yes, obviously," he spat angrily in response, "John is on his way, I'll meet the two of you there."

Sherlock set down his phone before grabbing his scarf, not missing the eye roll Lestrade sent his way before the detective left the room.

In only a matter of minutes Sherlock had burst out of the flat and hailed a cab. Brushing slender fingers through dark locks, it was obvious the anticipation was getting to him. Even John had noticed how the lack of activity was affecting the hyperactive man. This was exactly the fix Sherlock had been looking for.

Passing under the yellow caution tape, and flattening the front of his trench coat, Sherlock made his way to the body laying in the middle of the street. John was already talking to some of the local police.

Rushing to his side Sherlock started to evaluate the situation, eyes shooting over the body with practiced precision, not missing a single detail. Unfortunately his sharp focus on the situation caused him to miss the new intern at the agency that had made her way over to John.

While Sherlock scoured the crime scene, the young woman had started lightly flirting with John. Getting far too close for John's liking, she rested a manicured hand on his shoulder and leaned in close enough for him to get a nose full of her perfume.

"Look it was nice to meet you…."

"Katie."

"It was nice to meet you Katie, but I better get going I think my friend needs me." John was stiff as a bored as he tried to scoot away from the woman who was clearly not getting the message.

"But we just met," leaning in closer so almost her whole body pushed up against his, Katie shot him a sharp smile.

Across the street Sherlock poked at a dismembered hand with a pen. Sitting back, he officially decided he had collected all of the information he could, Sherlock made his way back to John. Once his eyes locked onto the sight before him the tall man froze. Clenching his hands into fists, it took almost all of his self control to keep himself from straight out lunging at the woman.

"Sherlock are you okay?" Lestrade watching the tense man from his place next to a local police officer.

"Absolutely fine." Sherlock forced out of clenched teeth, swiftly moving forward through the crowd.

Weaving in and out of the swarm of people, Sherlock seemed to be nothing more than a streak of black as he almost sprinted to John's aid. Once clear of the maze Sherlock made his way over to the two.

"John I need to talk to you for a moment." Sherlock commanded, not even giving so much as a glance to the woman who had attached herself to his arm.

Shooting Sherlock a thankful look, John made to move forward only to be stopped by Katie.

"We're in the middle of a conversation, it would be rather rude of you to interrupt, don't you think?" Sarcasm was dripping off her tongue as she spoke.

Sherlock's eyes seemed to sharpen at the obstacle placed before him. Every muscle in his body tensed at this, but he knew he had to keep his temper under control, "Listen I don't know who the hell you think you are but it you don't wrench your idiotic hands off of John I will make it so you never work in this city again," he hissed under his breath.

John's eyes bulged and his mouth fell slightly agape. The woman next to him seemed to mirror his expression.

Arching a plucked eyebrow, "Excuse…"

"Oh you heard me, you work for Lestrade correct?" Sherlock began moving forward, stopping mere inches from the interns face.

Paling slightly, Katie took a precautionary step back, releasing her grip on John's arm.

"That's what I thought." Sherlock all but spat at her, grabbing John's hand he led them away from the commotion and to a quieter street.

"What the hell was that?" John asked him, smoothing over his ruffled sleeve, before turning to fully face Sherlock, "I knew you were crazy but Jesus, I think you might have made her cry."

"Good." Sherlock said sharply pacing back and forth, still internally fuming, clenching his hands behind his back as he moved.  
"Oh my God, are you...jealous?" John snorted at the sudden realization, "The great Sherlock Holmes is _jealous_!"

"She was rubbing on you John!" he snapped angrily, throwing his hands in the air and wildly gesturing in an attempt to further his point.

"I could have handled it Sherlock!" John yelled back.

"Oh please," he leaned back, looking up to the sky, "You couldn't handle an aggressive kitten if you had too."

"How old are you again?" John crossed his arms.  
"You two argue like an old married couple." Lestrade's distinct voice came from behind the two.

Whipping around in tandem, the pair stared wide eyed at the detective.

"How long have you been standing there?" John all but whispered.

"Long enough." Lestrade sighed before turning and making his way back to the crime scene, "We need you two."

"This conversation isn't over." Sherlock muttered before striding ahead to catch up.

"It never is." John laughed to himself, even though no one was around to see, a light pink blush dusted his cheeks, and an unshakable smile tugged at his lips.

By REAPER


	2. Without You

**AN: Once again, this is my friend reaper's work. She says she's not going to get an account *rolling my eyes* so I'm probably going to be posting her stuff for a while.**

 **For everyone who commented, MY FRIEND REAPER wrote this, she says thanks to all of the sweet compliments.**

 **This story will stay as a series of Sherlock (mostly Johnlock) oneshots by my reaper.**

 **I have other Johnlock stories by me on my profile if that's what y'all are interested in too.**

 **Happy reading people!**

Johnlock: 'Without You'

Summary: Sherlock has a brush with death that leaves him in the hospital. John is devastated by his partners condition but Sherlock doesn't seem to recognize the severity. John can't take how little Sherlock cares about himself.

Word Count: 1,143

Shard, glass, railing, leap, air, plummet. No one ever talks about how loud air can be. It was practically deafening, screaming in his ears and ripping through his hair.

The gala had obviously not gone as planned. Sherlock never expected to find himself plummeting out of a fifth story window, but it had happened and there was nothing left to do but brace for the fall.

On the way down Sherlock began to think. He supposed in retrospect it wasn't the best idea in the world to insult one of the bouncers. Before he knew it, both his and John's covers were blown and all hell had broken loose. It took a giant of a man to pick Sherlock up by his middle and hurl him out of the nearest window. The violence of the action was enough to stun the detective to the point where he didn't even feel the sting of the cutting glass.

Angling his eyes down to the lake below Sherlock sighed in exasperation, and an odd amount of calmness covered his face considering his current position. The world was rocketing around him, flashing at near incomprehensible speeds. Moving so his feet hit the water first, Sherlock smashed violently onto the liquid surface that felt more solid than his joints would have liked.

First there was blinding pain, and then darkness. Everything was cold...and the world melted away.

* * *

An incessant beeping woke Sherlock from his deep slumber. A pounding headache cracked across his skull the instant he tried to sit up, and just about every muscle radiated the same pain simultaneously.

The heart monitor next to him annoyed the detective to no end but there was nothing he could do about that for the moment. The yellowing street lights cast a warm hue across the room.

Groaning angrily and laying back down, Sherlock busied himself with staring at the ceiling until his eyes wandered to a slumped figure in the corner of his small hospital room.

John lay in a rather odd position in an uncomfortable looking wooden chair. A small snore left his lips as he seemed to sink further into slumber. Dark circles hung low from his eyes, it looked as if it had been days since he had last showered, and his close were wrinkled and unkempt. And for some odd reason, Sherlock could almost swear that it looked like he had been crying.

Sherlock was the one who was always known to not care much at all about his appearance, but John was a clean person. After a moment of thinking Sherlock begged the question of how long he had been out.

Not wanting to wake John, Sherlock sank further into the hospital bed and tried to relax and hopefully fall fast asleep. The last thing he remembered was falling and the cuts of the glass on his skin. The amount of pain he was experiencing was enough to tell him that his pencil dive into the water had been far from clean.

Eventually the dim lights ebbed together and faded away as Sherlock once more slipped into the darkness of sleep. It was another dreamless heavy slumber, and by the time his eyes fluttered open light trickled in from the adjacent window. Its brightness caused the detective to once more squeeze his eyes shut and let them relax before he could finally look around the room again.

John's whole head was blocked from view by a large newspaper he was reading. On the front in bold letters read _Notorious Detective Sherlock Falls In Deeper Than Expected When He Takes A Dive Off A Local Building_.

Sherlock's expression soured for a moment but softened once John set down the paper and the two locked eyes.

"Bloody hell, I didn't know when you were going to wake up," his voice was strained as he ran a nervous hand through his hair, "In the beginning I didn't even know if you would make it."  
Trying to sit up, Sherlock wheezed once more at the pain before settling back down and turning to John, "How bad?"

"Three broken ribs, a fractured shin, an extreme cranial trauma, and bruises just about everywhere a man can bruise." John stood from his chair and walked over to the bed, "It was the cranial trauma that left everyone worried."

"How long?" Sherlock didn't break eye contact with John as he spoke.

"Three days." Every word seemed to cause John to sink further into himself, he looked horrific. The sleep he had last night obviously did nothing not help replenish his loss of energy.

Shrugging Sherlock looked around the room, "Any chance you could nab me some food from the cafeteria, some Jello would be nice right now."

John's exhausted expression suddenly turned angry. Eyes, turning almost demonic gripped the side of Sherlock's hospital bed to the point where his knuckles went white.

"You don't understand Sherlock, I thought you were dead." John's teeth were clenched aggressively together as he spoke, it looked like it took almost all of his energy not to snap on the spot.

"I really don't see-"

"I can't lose you again Sherlock!" John cut him off, finally releasing the anger inside of him.

Sherlock craned his neck to look at John, confused about the outburst and then feeling awful once he saw a singular tear fall from his eye. This confirmed that Sherlock had in fact seen tear residue on John's cheeks the previous night.

A sudden guilt flooded Sherlock as he took in his partner's words. He supposed that he had almost died. Casting his eyes back down to the sheets pulled around his chest, Sherlock finally worked up the courage to speak, "You really care about me don't you?"

"Of course I do Sherlock," the beeping was once again the only sound heard in the room as the two men fell silent, "you mean the world to me."

"I suppose you mean a great deal to me too…" Sherlock tore his eyes away from his sheets and backed up to John's mesmerizing blue ones, "I don't know what I would do if you were in this bed instead of me."

John relaxed a bit at his words and moved his hand to lightly brush Sherlock's cheek but not any further. It was a silent reminder to them both of their commitment to one another.

"I'm sorry John, I suppose I can't keep being this careless. I'm not always going to be lucky." Sherlock's eyes never left John's as he spoke.

"I'm glad you have finally been made aware of your own mortality," John laughed quietly, "God forbid, the all famous and cunning, Sherlock Holmes be anything but invincible."

And with that the two shared a laugh, able to finally relax into each other's presences, knowing they would both live to laugh another day.

\- The reaper


End file.
